Running was a mixed bag this morning, feeling sluggish and heavy. My ear pods weren’t functioning, so without music I had little distraction from thought. With a pending surgery date of January 15th and the end of this running streak just months away, I felt fortunate to even be running at all. Today was #5,442, and by that date I will have likely progressed from “Experienced” to “Well Versed” on the USRSA site at www.runeveryday.com, having finally surpassed fifteen full years. I will need to check in for surgery at 5:30a, so there will be an early morning “finale” mile, just in case for some reason there is a delay or miracle, and the streak can continue. 

January 15th will conclude 5,496 consecutive days of daily running without fail, placing me at #157 on the all-time retired list. That position will steadily fall as the 225 currently people ahead of me in longevity will eventually face the same fate. Also, the first day I miss others will begin to pass me and almost certainly someone just starting a streak that day will someday beat my total. All records are meant to be broken, even those that are not necessarily anywhere near the top, like mine. For fifteen years I’ve somehow avoided injury, severe illness, lack of motivation, and other circumstances to survive doing this arduous daily task. Ultimately, they will have to stop and start my heart to deter me. 

I once thought that the whole point in running every day was to keep the weight off and avoid the doctor. Obviously, it didn’t work, so for me it apparently all just boiled down to a game of stubborn perseverance. I can’t possibly tell you the number of times that I did not want to take those first steps or nearly stopped mid-stride. Instead, I kept going, day after day, committed to that run and the next. I will surely face the depression of missing that first day, surely convinced that I will somehow be able to rise from the hospital bed and complete another day of this streak. After all, following that “last” run before surgery, I will have until just before midnight that next day to get back on my feet. Then, the next stage of depression will kick in, knowing that it truly will have ended. Am I prepared for this reality? No. Surgery sucks!